


Laundry, Hoodies, and Conversation

by Mary Reed (Mary_Reed)



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Credit to silverathena for the prompt much love, F/F, Fluff turned Angsty, Gen, Here There Be Spoilers, Mass Effect 2 spoilers, Set post ME1 and much of ME2 (Loyalty missions finished), silverathena, sorry about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 20:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4760135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mary_Reed/pseuds/Mary%20Reed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After helping her many companions with personal missions (and running into an old flame or two along the way), Shepard just wants to do her laundry alone, in peace. Naturally, that's the opposite of what happens. Set after most of the loyalty missions in Mass Effect 2, and obviously after the events two years prior when a certain Commander died getting her crew off the Normandy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laundry, Hoodies, and Conversation

_Laundry, Hoodies, and Conversation_

-A Mass Effect 2 One-Shot 

 

           Commander Jane Shepard took the elevator to the deck of the Normandy that housed the crew and, by extension, the laundry room. In her arms was a basket full of sweatpants, bloodstained undershirts, and her favorite N7 hoodie. It was one in the morning, and though she had stifled no less than six yawns on her way to the washers, the promise of an empty room was absolutely worth it.

            Of course, the Normandy (bless her heart) rarely kept her promises. Shepard suppressed a groan as she opened the door to the laundry room and saw a distinctly occupied room. Joker was entertaining EDI, their recently unshackled AI and source of disconcertingly deadpan singularity jokes, by the nicest washer/dryer set.

            “No no, I know a lot of guys swear by boxers, but you would not believe that soft, silky feeling of a pair of briefs on your smooth-helloCommanderhowisyourevening?” Joker’s sentence ran full-tilt into a salute. Shepard couldn’t resist a sly grin.

            “What was that, Joker? Smooth what, exactly?” Her sharp green eyes dared him to answer.

            “You know, ma’am, your uhh, I mean, you probably don’t know, ‘cause _you_ don’t have ‘em…” The pilot’s foot could not have been further in his mouth.

            “I believe he meant his testicles, Commander. Is that right Jeff?” The look of horror on Joker’s face was only augmented by EDI’s garbled, mechanical giggling.

            “Well I was hoping the laundry room would be empty but damn, this is even better,” Shepard said. She wandered over to the second best washer and began unloading her clothes while Joker remained silent in his corner of the room, his deep blush slowly fading. Everything went into the machine save her hoodie, which sat alone at the bottom of her laundry basket.

            It was the only thing salvaged off of the old Normandy; she had lent it to Joker that day (she had spent the whole morning mocking him because it fit so well) and he was still wearing it when the collectors attacked. He had kept it safe in a box in his apartment for two long years (he couldn’t bear to wear it), and returned it the first chance he got.

            The result was that when Shepard hugged it close enough, it held just a hint of the old Normandy’s scent. Somehow, through the years it had retained its old smell, with only a little bit of dust mixed in. In the months since her resurrection, Shepard had never quite been able to wash away that reminder of the way things were. She took it down to the laundry room every time she went, stacking it neatly on top of her other clothes, but it always ended up back in her arms when she ascended the stairs to her private quarters.

            She bit her lip and contemplated tossing it in with everything else as the door opened once again.

            “Oh! Hello Shepard, and Joker. I wasn’t expecting anyone else down here,” said Tali as she approached an empty washer with her purple headscarf in hand.

            “Me neither,” grumbled Shepard irritably.

            “Hello Tali,” said EDI, an edge to her digital voice. Given the quarian’s history with artificial intelligence, EDI understood Tali’s resistance to her, but with her unshackling EDI had developed some strange feelings. Chief among them was anger, as well as something Jeff assured her was love, though the way he said it gave her pause. Most things Jeff said gave her pause, but still.

            Since this discovery of strong emotions, EDI had made a point of always addressing Tali, especially when Tali failed to address her. EDI spent more time with Jeff and Legion as well. Jeff made her feel warm and Legion understood things in a way no one else did. EDI’s longing for acceptance grew everyday. Liara’s constant lectures on how EDI was ‘exactly like the geth but also completely different and wasn’t that an interesting moral question’ did not help with this, nor did Mordin’s daily 5-hour surveys regarding the intensity of various emotions at different times of day on a multi-faceted 1-5000 scale. “Must gather data, otherwise opportunity missed. Opportunity of a lifetime, studying an AI. 347.1 or just 347 on the Carter index for anger?”

            “Oh, hello EDI,” responded Tali reluctantly, tone carrying even through her voice modulator.

            “Why the hell is everybody down here at one in the morning?” Shepard mumbled to herself, stabbing at a bloodstain with a soap stick angrily.

            “Tali I thought that thing never came off. Isn’t it part of your head mask thing?” Joker asked.

            “No, Joker, it’s a decorative headscarf. Meaning it’s very removable. And it has grease on it now. I’m never helping Garrus calibrate again.”

            “What’s that about not helping Garrus?” asked the turian himself, striding confidently through the door.

            “You stained my headscarf with your assault rifle!” responded Tali angrily.

            “Sorry, sorry. It was an accident, you know. I’ll buy you a new one.”

            “You can’t! My mother made it for me!” Tali knew her anger was not entirely justified, but she couldn’t help it. After everything that had happened, after losing her clan and her father in the same moment, it was hard not to cling to the little things.

            Plus it was always fun to give Garrus a hard time. He did it enough to the rest of them.

            “You know a great place to have this conversation?” asked Shepard. “The bridge. Or the kitchen. I’m sure Gardner would _love_ to hear all about this. He’s a great mediator.”

            “Shepard, even you don’t believe that, do you?” asked Garrus with a smirk.

            “Ugh, fine. Is it so much to ask for a moment’s peace on this damn rusty bucket?”

            “She doesn’t really mean that beautiful,” Joker said, patting the cold metal walls. “She’s just grouchy.”

            “Do not push it Moreau,” Shepard said. She had been a solitary woman for as long as she could remember; even before the raid and the fire and the death of her parents, she had enjoyed running off and reading alone more than most things. She wished she had enjoyed it a little less back then, but still.

            That said, her irritability was on high alert at the moment. She was making a conscious effort to stop referring to Liara as the “love of her life” in her head, but it was always a challenge. Ever since they had left her on Illium, all Shepard could think of was going back. She had said she needed help with a mission, that she was now the Shadow Broker. She’d always known Liara was smart, but it was hard to look at the hard woman Liara had become and not blame it on herself. After all, she had pulled the trigger when Benezia died. She had fallen headfirst for the asari scientist, had promised her a life of love and happiness and had gone off and died.

            Shepard shook her head in an attempt to dispel her thoughts of Liara, short red hair whipping around her freckled face.

            “Well since Shepard clearly isn’t in the mood to talk…” said Garrus, filling the awkward silence.

            “You do realize that pointing these things out makes the situation more uncomfortable, don’t you?” asked Tali. She glared at Garrus. “Shepard is very fragile right now,” she whispered.

            “Yeah, you need to treat her gently. Like a tiny, sick volus,” added Joker.

            “Next person who speaks spends the next six months rebuilding the Mako. I need more of that gravity defying son of a bitch in my life,” said Shepard. Grumbles echoed through the laundry room, but no one spoke.

            “A little twitchy aren’t we Shepard?” called a voice from the air duct. Kasumi’s lithe body slipped through an open grate just above Joker and EDI.

            “Jesus Christ, you don’t even have any laundry!” said Shepard in exasperation.

            “I could hardly let you all have the fun. Heard the conversation from the observation deck and I just had to come check it out.”  
            “You ran out of rum, didn’t you?”

            “What can I say, thieves know how to drink,” responded Kasumi, winking at Shepard. “Oh, and I tried to get Jack to come with but she said, and I quote, ‘if you think I fucking wash my clothes you’re fucking crazy.’ She also asked if ‘that bitch Miranda’ was in here. Wasn’t sure how to respond to that…”

            “What’s that about ‘that bitch Miranda?’” asked a smooth Australian voice.

            “Oh Kasumi was just… where the hell did she go?” asked Shepard with confusion. “No seriously, did anyone see?”

            “I think she climbed back into the air vents,” said Joker. “She works quick.”

            “Yes, she is already back in her quarters drinking something that is luminescent and green,” said EDI.

            “That’s what I get for putting her in the room with the bar,” muttered Shepard.

            “Well don’t mind me, I’m just here to do a load of laundry. Unlike the rest of you,” added Miranda disapprovingly. Disappointing, every one of them save Shepard. Shepard had exceeded every expectation Cerberus had set forth: Project Lazarus was a success. She tried not to be jealous of how well Shepard functioned without the genetic enhancements Miranda enjoyed. In this, Miranda was not so successful.

            “Well my laundry is in the washing machine so I’m leaving,” said Shepard. “Good luck to the rest of you. EDI, can you wake me up when the wash cycle finishes up?”

            “Of course Commander Shepard. Sleep well,” said EDI. A chorus of goodnights followed the gruff commander out the door. She held her N7 hoodie close to her chest as she left the room; she wasn’t ready to wash it just yet.

            She wasn’t ready to let go of her old life, where Liara was down the hall and Tali was just a young thing experiencing the world for the first time. Where Garrus’ unscarred face formed a smile more often than a frown, and he spent far less time “calibrating” and much more time socializing. Where Shepard’s death, her absence from her friends’ lives, hadn’t broken them all in ways they could never fully fix. Hadn’t broken _her_ in ways she knew would never heal.

            She wasn’t sure she ever would be. But that wasn’t going to stop her from dragging that damned sweatshirt down to the laundry room every chance she got.


End file.
